


You'll Be Okay

by brodylover



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Abuse, Anal, Fingering, First Kiss, First Time, Freak Show, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Masterbation, Prostitution, Theft, Torture, Wings, circus AU, coney island au, feathers - Freeform, freak show au, hostage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-21 13:29:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodylover/pseuds/brodylover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coney Island AU. Sam and Dean are good hearted thieves, basically Robin Hoods. When they go to a freak show, they find the prize of the show, a silenced angel. They free Castiel and teach him the truth about life, freedom, and most importantly, love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Coney Island. A place of fun and excitement and new things to see. For the Winchesters it was a place of freedom.  
Sam stretched his arms, almost bonking his cotton candy into a little girl who was on her daddy’s shoulders. He was happy, blissfully serene as he walked. How long had it been since he’d felt the sun on his face? How long had it been since he could go somewhere other than the yard? How long had it been since he’d seen candy and children having fun and rides and entertainment? Too long.  
Dean felt the same way and he smiled up at his little brother, readjusting his fedora. A fedora. A suit. Clean shoes. Handkerchiefs. They’d missed them. It had been too long since they’d been allowed to wear their own clothes, their own spats.  
They were never going to go back.  
“Hey Sammy!” Dean nudged, “Freak show! Let’s check it out!”  
“Dean!” Sam growled, “I hate freak shows!”  
“Can’t hear ya, music’s too loud!” he lied as he moved in and amongst the freak show anyway, Sam following behind.  
There was a girl with hair so red that it looked fake, and it was so long that it curled around her body like an intricate gown. There was a dark man who breathed fire and gave Dean a very cold look. There was a wiry man, who looked like an accountant, but he could juggle whatever was thrown at him, and a woman, blond and strong and dominating, kept throwing different things at him.  
Most of the people though were standing around a gilded golden cage, just watching. The kids seemed bored and kept shouting for what was inside to do something, but the older audience was amazed by the thing itself. Sam didn’t have to fight his way through to see inside of the cage, but Dean climbed through on the side, trying to see the attraction.  
There was a man in the cage, tall, although shorter than the Winchesters, and thin, wearing extravagant robes. He had dark brown hair and the bluest eyes Dean had ever seen, but they were cloaked in hooded lids and dark bags. It was hard to tell if he was exhausted or extremely sad. Stemming from his back was a pair of long wings, silver and speckled with blue on the inside, the feathers looking tarnished on the outside. They were cut off on the tips, making it impossible for him to fly.  
Sam nudged his brother with his elbow, but, like every other adult in the audience, he was mesmerized. Sure, he wanted to see the angel do something, flap those wings or something, prove that they were real, but this was enough. Just seeing something this beautiful was enough.  
The angel was looking around, those sad blue eyes glancing on the faces of everyone staring at it, but they finally fell on Dean. That was when they stopped. It seemed to the thief was looking into his soul, like it was pleading with him, like it wanted to speak to him.  
Eventually Sam grabbed him by the arm and turned him away, pulling him away from the angel and all of the other exhibits.  
“You know I hate freak shows, Dean.” Sam growled when they were far enough away.  
“What? C’mon Sam, you can’t deny that there wasn’t something there for you.” Dean argued. He knew that there was something for him at least.  
“They make me sad. It doesn’t look like they want to be there.”  
“It’s their jobs! If they didn’t want to be there they would quit.”  
“I don’t know. Did you see how sad that guy was? The one in the cage?”  
Dean looked over his shoulder, he could just barely see anything through the crowd, but he could see the harsh edges of cut feathers.  
“I don’t know.”  
“What about his wings, huh? They were clipped! If he was happy they wouldn’t have to clip his wings.”  
Dean gave up, tossing his hands up in the air, “Fine! We’ll come back tonight, ask him if he wants to leave or not. Alright?”  
“Alright.”

But Dean didn’t want to go there that night and he told Sam as much. They had just breathed fresh air for the first time that day and he was not looking forward to going back to the dankness of a prison cell so soon. Still, a promise was a promise and this was one that Sam wouldn’t let him go back on.  
He wrapped his arms around himself as he walked through the cold night, a few steps behind his little brother.  
“You realize this is why we were in trouble in the first place, right?”he groaned.  
“Yeah, we were helping people.” Sam argued, “We just started helping ourselves too much. We need to help others again.”  
“We help people by stealing. You’re recommending we steal a person.”  
“It’s not stealing if he wants to come.”  
Sam had a point and Dean rolled his eyes in order to not see it.  
They entered the desolate park, where the caravans and trailers were still parked. There was some security, the big dark man with the fire walking around with his eyes lit up and another, almost as dark but huge and with black freckles on his face, walking around, but the brothers stuck to the shadows, not even getting noticed by them. The snuck to one trailer towards the middle, which had poorly painted birds on the outside. In large gaudy letters it read “Castiel the Angel”.  
Sam picked the lock and entered. It was pitch black in there and Dean lit his lighter in order to let them see anything.  
The cage was in the corner of the small makeshift room and it looked the same as it had before. The only difference was that now the man with the wings wasn’t on his perch, he was on the floor of the cage, wrapped up in a fetal position, fast asleep. Dean tried not to breathe as he stepped forward, looking over the man’s features with the small amount of illumination coming from his lighter. His features were tired and sad, a cloud of stubble splayed over his jaw. He was beautiful though, in a haunting way, and Dean could see that he was incredibly thin through his uniform.  
He didn’t like the fact that he was sleeping in those clothes, that he was sleeping in a cage. He should have been in a bed, in something comfortable, safe and happy. This wasn’t right.  
Sam reached through the bars, his arm thin and long enough to ruffle the man’s dark hair. In a moment he was awake, panic over his face, and he had rushed to the other side of the cage, his wings curling around him as best they could. There was nothing but terror on his face as he stared at them, his lips in a tight line.  
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Sam smiled weakly, trying to calm the man down, “I’m Sam, this is my brother, Dean. What’s your name?”  
The man just shook his head, his wings getting tighter around him.  
“We’re going to get you out of here, if that’s what you want.” Sam continued, “We just have to know that you want out first.”  
He just stared at him.  
“You don’t talk.” Dean realized. The man looked up at him, finally taking his eyes away from Sam. He seemed to soften a little bit when he looked at the older of the two men and his shoulders started to relax. Dean knelt down, got on the same level as the caged man, “That’s okay. You can just nod yes. We just want to make sure that you’re okay.”  
That was when he moved. He grabbed Dean by the lapels, his arms easily going through the spaces between the bars and he pushed, knocking Dean over. The panic was in his face again and he was pointing to the door. He wanted them out of there.  
“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, pulling him up to his feet. There were voices outside of the caravan, and they didn’t sound happy. There was a female voice in there and it was practically screaming.  
Dean didn’t run, there wasn’t time for that.  
“Sailor trick!” he smiled, pulling a flask out of the inside of his jacket. Before Sam could argue with him he splashed the whiskey in his face. He immediately fell over, draping an arm over Dean’s shoulders as he wiped his face with his handkerchief.  
The door open and the light of a flaming torch, paired with a few flashlights drowned out the memory of Dean’s lighter.  
“What’s all this then?” asked the pyro, grinning from behind his flame.  
“Sorry, sorry!” Dean tried to move the slumped over Sam, but his brother was limp and heavy, making it hard for him to get him out of the caravan. “My friend here just got a bit drunk. Thought he’d bed the bearded lady! I just found him. We’re on our way out.”  
The girl with the hair stared at him, the redness braided and coiled around her head like a strong rope.  
“No, not you. Do you even have a bearded lady?”  
“Pretty.” Sam drooled, reaching out towards her.  
“What’s all this then?” asked a nauseatingly kind voice. It was the kind of kindness that was faked. They all turned, looking at a balding man with dark eyes and a cruel smile. He stepped through the crowd of freaks, getting right into Dean’s face. He was slightly taller than the man and much too intimidating.  
“They were talking with Cassy, Mr. Zachariah.” The fire twirler explained.  
“I see, thank you Raphael.” He looked past the Winchesters, giving a look to the man in the cage that made Dean feel even more sick than before. He looked hungry.  
“No.” The redhead interjected, “They were talking to Castiel, he wasn’t speaking a word!”  
“It’s true.” The wiry man in the suit agreed quietly from behind her.  
He turned on them and the smile was gone. They shrank away from him. “How come every time Castiel does something wrong, you two are there trying to defend him? Don’t forget where I found you, I can put you right back there. Anna, I could cut all that pretty hair and put you back on that street corner. Inias, when I found you you were a street magician, not even making enough to survive on. You want to go back there?”  
They went quiet and docile at that. This really wasn’t a good place.  
Sam let Dean lead him away from the man, hoping that they wouldn’t be noticed. It was clear that that hadn’t worked though as they heard shouted from behind them, “You get that boy into bed, you hear? And if I ever see you snooping around here again I will call the police on you.”  
Great, the police. Dean readjusted Sam over his shoulders and walked off. He didn’t go too far though, just around the side of a trailer before they stopped, leaning against it.  
“What are you doing?” Sam hissed, “We’re going to get caught!”  
“Shut up! I want to know what’s going to happen.”  
The man, Castiel, made no noise as he was dragged out of the cage and the caravan, but the crowd did. Some of them were cheering for Mr. Zachariah, while two of them begging him not to hurt the man. Dean laid his head to the earth, watching the attack from the gap between the trailer and the ground. Mr. Zachariah was pulling Castiel out of the caravan and he threw him to the ground. Anna was covering her face, unable to watch as Mr. Zachariah pulled off his belt, ignoring how Castiel was cowering before him.  
Dean couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This Castiel guy was going to get beaten, just for talking to them? He hadn’t even said a word! Even now, with a belt and all of this abuse being shouted down on him, he still wasn’t making a sound.  
Dean bit his lip and was running, Sam’s hands reaching out for him. He shouldn’t be doing this, it was stupid and reckless and he was going to get the life beaten out of him, if not by Mr. Zachariah than by that Raphael guy. That didn’t matter, not anymore.  
He slammed his body into the abusers, knocking him to the ground. Then he grabbed the belt and ripped it from his hands. There was some shouting, but that didn’t matter. He ignored it.  
Castiel wasn’t moving, just shivering, his costume torn slightly. Dean grabbed him and, without checking him or anything, he picked him up. He was far too light.  
“What the hell is wrong with you people?” He glared up at them all. They weren’t moving, too shocked by Dean’s actions to stop him.  
Clutching Castiel to his chest, he ran, leaving the freak show behind him, planning on never returning there again. He hardly noticed that Sam was running with him or that Castiel’s fingers were tightly gripping onto his clothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get Cas home and Dean learns a bit more about the Angel's past, including his relationship to one Mr Crowely.

The silent and shaking angel clinging to Dean’s side was only a temporary thing. After a short rest in the Winchester’s motel room, where he had curled up in a ball and cried to himself while the two tried to figure out there next move, he composed himself and tried to force his way past them, trying to get to the door. He was surprisingly scrappy as he fought against them, trying to get out even with the tears still visibly staining his skin.   
He was speaking too, but the words were strained, his voice quiet and hoarse. It was clear that he hadn’t spoken in a long time, and what he had said probably had been in the form of screams.  
“Take me back!” he was ordering over and over again and they thought that he was just making noise at first. They had to strain to make out the words, but when they did it was far too heartbreaking to hear.   
Dean grabbed his thin arms, which he pulled away, most likely an instinct, before trying to pass him again. Again he clutched at those arms and this time he pulled him in close, holding him tightly against him. He could feel Castiel shivering against his touch, his muscles tensing as he tried to pull away from him. The angel was terrified and Dean could find no reason to blame him.   
“Let me go back.” Castiel sobbed, burying his face in Dean’s suit jacket.  
“Why?” he didn’t move, tried not to startle him, “Why would you want to go back?”  
“You don’t understand.” His words were almost impossible to hear, “I have to. If I don’t-“  
“It’ll be worse.” Dean nodded, understanding. Sure, they would hurt him, they had hurt him, but the longer he stayed away, the more they would punish him. Of course he’d want to go back. “You don’t have to. You’re here, you’re with us. You’re going to be okay Cas.”  
“Cas?” he asked. It was the first time he’d been called that. It was just a shortened version of his name, but he was amazed by the concept of the nickname.   
“Yeah, can I call you Cas?”  
He almost smiled at that but then stopped as he realized it.  
“You don’t have to go back. I don’t want you to go back. You can stay here for a while, but we’ll have to get you out of town. They’ll hurt you if you go back.”  
“Deserve it.”  
Dean dropped his arms at that. Sam was staring, his mouth hanging open in surprise. What could Cas have done that would make him deserve that? They couldn’t do this, couldn’t make him feel like he deserved better, not this early in their relationship. He wouldn’t even listen to that.   
“You don’t. Cas, I just met you, I’ve never seen you before today, but I don’t think you deserve anything that’s happened to you.”  
He closed his mouth, the pink soft lips stretching into a line and he stopped fighting. He knew he couldn’t get past the Winchesters and that they wouldn’t listen to him. Nothing he could do would get them to let him go back to the only home he’d ever had.   
“We should get in touch with Bobby.” Sam thought out loud, taking off his whiskey stained smoking jacket, “We should try to get that Zachariah guy arrested or something. Bobby will know what to do.”  
“We just got out of prison, Sam!” Dean argued, “If he knows we stole someone, he’s going to be furious! You know that right?”  
“Well, do you have any ideas?”  
“Yeah, I do. How about we get Cas here cleaned up and then we all go to bed?”  
Cas swallowed and looked away from them, stepping back weakly. He didn’t want their help.   
He needed their help.  
Cas took a shower, which was long and full of surprised sounds. Dean thought that this may have been his first shower, but he didn’t attempt to find out. He didn’t want to learn too much about this guy. So far it had all been bad and he didn’t want to learn that it was even worse than that.   
He slept in his clothes, on top of the sheets, curled up the same way he had been on the floor of his cage. The brothers slept together in the other bed. They had had a lot of hard living on the road and well, prison, so they were used to sleeping together. Sam was large and warm and they hardly needed any blankets.   
Regardless of the warmth of his brother, Dean was plagued by dreams. There had been a time when they were separated during the war, when Dean had taken a job as a mercenary to keep Sam safe. He had done terrible things and had seen worse while marching through Poland and the memories still plagued him brutally. He dreamed of the gas chambers and the emaciated survivors every night without fail and he commonly shouted out in his sleep or cried or woke up sweating.   
That’s what happened that night. He woke with a start, pulling himself and all of the blankets off of Sam’s large fram, panting and sweating. There had been someone sobbing in the dream and now that he was awake he was hoping that it would have ended. It hadn’t.   
He looked over and Cas hadn’t moved. He was curled in on himself and crying in his sleep. Dean wondered if he was having dreams too. He was also shivering, the lights from outside highlighting the gooseflesh on his neck, the only part other than his hands and face that were exposed from his outlandish costume. He looked sweet, like a cherub, and so pitiable. Dean hated it when people pitied him so he didn’t want to pity Cas. He wanted to help him in any way he could. He picked up the extra blankets that Sam had kicked off in his sleep and draped them over the angel’s wings, which were protectively folded around his sides. He shivered worse at that but as the blankets warmed up he relaxed, the tight curl of his body opening up slightly.   
With the shivering gone and the crying gone silent, Dean returned to his slumber. Almost immediately the Nazi’s and blood and death filled his dreams but towards morning they changed, became pleasant, became amazing.   
He was lying there in bed and someone, he couldn’t tell if they were male or female, was touching him. He’d had his share of blowjobs, but none like this. He’d always been able to see them clearly, not having to guess their gender, and there had never been so much need involved. It was usually just something to get him up the rest of the way. And he had never dreamt of blowjobs before. They’d always been real.   
He moaned and the sound of it woke him up.   
He was cold and alone in the bed, well, Sam wasn’t in it at least, someone was there, in between his legs. He looked down and his bright green eyes caught the tired blue ones, staring up at him with a naïve intensity. Cas’s lips, those pink soft lips, were wrapped around his hard and swollen cock and he slowly swallowed it down. Something in his face was desperate for the approval that Dean couldn’t give him.   
Dean screamed and pulled away, covering himself up with a tossed aside sheet. He had gone to be in his underwear, but he didn’t know where they were now.  
“What are you doing?” he screeched.   
Cas wiped at his mouth, his shoulders tight and the rest of him collapsing in on itself in shame. He was like an abused puppy that had just pissed on the carpet. “I wanted to thank you.” His voice was still horribly weak. Dean couldn’t stand it, how sad Cas seemed to be from his rejection.   
He knelt down beside him and tried to get his mind off of his erection, “What? You don’t have to thank me with a… a blowjob. Just say thank you. That’s all it takes.”  
Cas looked like he was about to cry all over again, “Thank you Dean. For saving me.”  
“I had to.” He smiled, “If I hadn’t I would have felt guilty forever.”  
Cas was still fully dressed. They would have to buy him some new clothes.   
“Why a blow job though? Why would you even think of that?” his curiosity was getting the better of him.  
“Before, when I was with Mr. Zachariah, he had a friend, Mr. Crowley. He did many nice things for Mr. Zachariah. I was used to help repay him.” Cas answered emotionless.  
“You mean he whored you out?”  
“I wouldn’t know about that.” Cas couldn’t look at Dean though, his eyes always down at the ground. That told Dean everything. Yes, he did know about that and yes, he had been. Dean didn’t know who this Crowley guy was, but he hated him for tarnishing something as beautiful as this small angel, for corrupting it and hurting it. Cas needed a lot more help than they could ever give.  
“You’re not supposed to do that Cas, okay?” He almost touched the angel then, almost put his hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t. What Cas had been doing with his mouth was amazing and he doubted he would be able to stay away after touching him while he was still half hard, “You only do that or have sex with someone if you love them, alright?”  
“I don’t know what love feels like.” Cas finally looked up at him and there, that spark as their eyes met that Dean felt throughout his veins, that was the feeling. He couldn’t say that, Cas was too damaged and this was probably just something that his libido was telling him that he felt, so he stayed silent.   
“You will when it’s happening.” Was all he could spare.  
He looked around the motel room, glad that Sam hadn’t been there to see Cas’s act of gratitude but wondering where he’d gone.   
“Sam went to see Bobby.” Cas explained as if he were reading Dean’s mind.

Inspector Robert Singer sat at his desk a file in front of him. There was some smuggling going on but he didn’t see why he needed to be involved. Surely this was work for the cops, not him. Still he half heartily read it, thinking he may be able to give the lower downs some hints or advice.   
He looked up though when a large man entered his office without so much of a knock, which would have been nice considering that his assistant hadn’t said anything on his intercom.   
“Sam Winchester, what are you doing here, ya idjit?” he laughed, seeing his old friend enter. Sam smiled too, even though it had been Bobby who had helped in his and his brother’s arrest.  
“Hello Bobby!”Sam couldn’t help but smile as he sat down across from him. He was the father figure in his life, besides Dean, and it was good to see him after all this time.  
“How did you get here? You didn’t break out, didja?”   
“Pfft, yeah right. We were let out. We didn’t have that long of a sentence.”  
“How long have you boys been out?”  
“Only since yesterday.”  
Bobby looked him over, taking him in. It had only been two years, Sam hadn’t changed much, but he looked worse for wear and he needed a real shave.  
“You smell like whiskey.” Bobby complained.  
Sam looked himself over. It wasn’t fun being just out of prison; he only had his one set of clothing. “Yeah, we did the sailor trick.”  
“The sailor trick? You aren’t doing anything illegal, are you?”  
“That’s why I came to you.” He admitted, “We found this guy and well, he was getting beat up, really badly, and I think it’s happened a lot. It was my idea, but Dean really went through with it, and we got the guy out of there. We’re just not sure about what to do now.”  
“Did you kidnap him?” Bobby leaned forward, squinting at the young man’s face.  
“No! I don’t think so.”  
Bobby sighed and leaned back, his shoulders slumped as if he were carrying a huge weight, “I got these men in here earlier, a big black guy and a smaller Jewish looking bastard. They said they were from the freak show and someone kidnapped their main act. They didn’t give me any names but they said that the thieves were one overly tall man and a smaller, but still tall one. That couldn’t have been you, could it?”  
“Bobby, you should see the guy. You should have seen what they were doing to him. I thought they were going to kill him.”  
“They said that if he was returned before Mr. Crowley, whoever that is, shows up tonight, they won’t press charges. I suggest you take that offer.”  
Sam was surprised. He’d thought Bobby would be a lot angrier about this. Still, he wasn’t happy. “I’ll talk to Dean.”  
“You do that.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Sam!” Dean smiled as Sam returned to the motel room. Cas was sitting before him, a mark of red spreading over his face. 

“Dean, we’ve got trouble.” Sam made sure that the door was locked behind him, “Bobby said that we have a chance of getting out of this if we give Cas back. They won’t press charges. But some guy, Mr. Crowley, is coming for him. I did some research on him, he is not someone that we want to make angry.” 

Cas grabbed onto Dean’s arm, his grip a little bit too tight. “You should take me back.” His voice was still little more than a whisper, “He’ll kill you. He’ll cause s much damage. You don’t even know.”

“Forget it Cas.” Dean rolled his eyes, “We’re not taking you back, okay? We’ll just lay low. There’s no way he’ll be able to find us.”

“Dean, they've seen our faces.” Sam reminded him, “They know our first names. They’re going to find us.”

“We’ll have to lay low then.” Dean shrugged, “They can’t search every house and motel room in this town, it’s huge! Not to mention that they don’t have a warrant.”

“We should do what they want.” Sam kept pressing.

“This was your idea, remember?” 

“I don’t get a say in this?” Cas asked, staring down at his hands. He looked like he had broken a lamp or something, all guilt and self consciousness.

“No.” Dean glared.

Dean grabbed his coat and glared at the both of them as he threw it over his shoulders, “I’m going out. We’re leaving town and Cas is going to need something other than a toga!” He slammed the door behind him. 

 

It was a few hours before there was a knock on the door and Sam jumped, but no where near as much as Cas was. They had been silent, both of them reading and basically ignoring each other. Sam didn’t know what to do with Cas, so he just lent him a book and hoped for the best. It seemed to be working out alright. 

“Cas, hide!” he hissed as he pulled away from the peep hole in the door. There were two men on the other side, large and dark. One was that Raphael guy, the other was the other freak show worker, but Sam didn’t know his name. Cas clambered up on his thin legs and rushed out of the room as fast as he could, ducking around one of the few corners.

Sam opened the door, “Can I help you?”

“You’re the drunk from the other night.” Raphael boomed, “Good to have run into you. I am Raphael. Do you remember me?”

Sam squinted as he thought back to the night before, slowly nodding his head, “No, not really. It’s all kind of a blur. You weren’t the bearded lady, were you?”

The other man, who had black freckles on his cheeks, laughed at that.

“We don’t have a bearded lady.” Raphael explained, “But your companion stole a member of our entourage last night, a pretty little thing with wings. Have you seen him?”

They were trying to step into the motel room nonchalantly, trying to look around. Sam puffed himself up, glad of his already towering height. 

“I really don’t remember. I haven’t seen him all day though. He just kind of dumped me off and left.”

“You mind if we look around?” Raphael asked.

“Actually, yeah, “Sam shrugged, “Unless, of course, you have a warrant.”

The second man opened his jacket, revealing the silver hilt of a knife inside, “How’s this for a warrant?” he positively laughed. 

Sam let them in. He didn’t seem to have much of a choice. 

They looked around a bit, but half heartedly. They may have believed Sam’s story or they may have been trying not to seem like this whole thing was a big deal. Sam knew that it was though and he was inching towards his luggage, which was resting against the side of the bed. Cas was in the bathroom, probably hiding in the closet. There was really no where else to hide. They would find him soon. There was a pistol in Sam’s luggage though, right at the top. If he got to it before they got to Cas-

He whipped it out and aimed it slowly at the larger of the two intruders’ heads, the one with a knife. “Alright, both of you, out.” He said through gritted teeth.

“So you are hiding him.” Raphael smiled before turning, looking at the ceiling as he loudly beckoned to the hidden refugee, “Come out Castiel. Your master is coming and he does not wish to be left wanting.”

There was no movement, “Come out now! You don’t want us to hurt your friend do you?”

“Hello?” Sam almost laughed at that, “I’m the one with the gun.”

Raphael turned back to him, cocking his head to the side, “Yes, but you’re aiming it at the wrong person.”

Sam’s eyes darted open as a burst of pain exploding behind him, tendrils of fire rushing through his shoulder, down his back, and down the nerves of his arm. He called out, grabbing at the knife in him, but it was pulled out and he was left falling to his knees in the motel room, these two men staring down at him.

“We weren’t supposed to kill him, Uriel.” Raphael corrected.

“Well, he isn’t dead, is he? Not quite yet anyway.” The other one chuckled. 

Sam’s fingers were trembling but they found their way back to his gun. He bit his lip as he brought it up, the pain screaming through his body from the motion. He aimed it at Uriel this time before he fired, ripping out a chunk of the man’s side with a loud bang. He hollered and clutched at the wound, Raphael grabbing onto him. 

“Great!” Raphael hissed, “Now the police will be here in no time!” He pushed Uriel towards the door and in moments they were gone, but not before Raphael glared back at Sam and threatened that he would soon return.

As soon as they were gone, the door slammed shut behind them; Cas was out of the bathroom, his hands on Sam, helping to keep him upright. There were tears streaming down his face as he saw the pain that Sam was in, “See? I told you. I told you they would hurt you, that I should go back. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

Sam did what he could to smile up at Cas, “Shut up. This wasn’t your fault.”

There were sirens in the distance, but they were getting closer. Cas would have to hide once they arrived, but he stayed as long as he could, holding onto Sam and doing his best to comfort him.

 

It was dark by the time that Dean got back to the motel, a few bags of clothing in his arms. He didn’t have much money, but he did have good skill at pick pocketing. He unlocked the door and walked in, none the wiser. 

The room was silent and there was a large stain of blood in the middle of the floor. Without a thought the bags were on the floor and he was rushing into the room, looking around frantically. 

“Sam?” he bellowed, “Sammy?”

Cas crawled out from beneath one of the beds, his feathers ruffled uncomfortably. He looked as if he had been hiding away this whole time. “Dean!”  
Dean grabbed a hold of Cas, his face flooded with anger. Cas accepted it, turning his face and keeping his free arm down. He didn’t attempt to defend himself even though he was wincing. He was waiting for Dean to hit him. Dean didn’t, of course he didn’t, but he let go of Cas’s wrist and pulled him forward, wrapping his arms around him tightly. He was shaking. Cas didn’t know what to do, so he stood still.

“Sam?” Dean asked, his face buried in Cas’s shoulder.

“He was stabbed.” Cas explained in his slowly strengthening voice, “Uriel and Raphael came by. They were looking for me. Sam was stabbed. The police came by, took him to the hospital. They said that he’d be alright.”

“He’s okay?”

“Yes. Dean, you should have let me go back.”

“No, Cas. No way. This wasn’t you’re fault.”

“Dean…”

Dean pulled away from him before throwing onr of the bags into his arms, “I got you some clothes. I haven’t modified them for your wings yet-“

“I can do that.” Cas peeked into the bag.

“I’ve got to go, I’ve got to see Sam.” Dean was restless, pacing around.

“I’ll clean up.” Cas’s shoulders were up by his ears, his arms tight around the bag. He still looked like Dean was going to hit him or something. 

“You don’t have to.” Dean touched his arm softly, reminding him that he wasn’t going to hurt him.

“It will give me something to do” Cas looked up at his with those big blue eyes then, making him melt slightly, “some way to thank you.”

“Thanks Cas.”

And with that, Dean was gone, running off to the hospital and leaving Cas alone.

 

Dean was exhausted when he finally made it back, falling into bed. The sun was starting to rise. Sam was fine. The doctor’s had patched him up and they needed him to stay so that they could keep and eye on him and get him enough blood. Dean hadn’t wanted to leave though, he’d wanted to stay and look out for his baby brother.   
The blood in the carpet was only half way up. There was a stain where Cas had been cleaning, but there was still a lot of the blood that hadn’t been cleaned up at all. 

“Cas?” he called out. 

There was no answer.

“Castiel?”

Nothing. 

He drove the sleepiness from his mind, tearing through the motel room. There was a chance that Cas had fallen asleep somewhere and just hadn’t heard him. He flung over the bathroom door and found his answer. The room was full of feathers, some a little bit bloody from where they had been pulled. The mirror was cracked and there was blood there too. Those assholes from the freak show had come back for him after all, and they had found him. 

Dean cursed under his breath. He should have been there. Sam didn’t need him. He picked up a few of the torn out feathers, staring at them in his hand. Perhaps this was for the best. They could never take care of Cas, anyway, he was too damaged, too broken, to live in the real world.

The feather crumpled in Dean’s fingers. He was disgusting. How could he think like that? He grabbed his own gun, slipping it into his waistband. At least he knew where Cas would be.


	4. Chapter 4

The camp was dark, even in the rising sun. There was only one small caravan with lights on and Dean headed towards it, being careful not to be seen by the workers walking security. He leaned his back against the exterior of it and listened. He could hear something. Someone was taunting, but Dean couldn’t recognize the words. Someone else was crying out, trying to hold back agonized screams. That had to be Cas.   
He kicked himself. He was supposed to keep Cas safe, make sure that nothing like this ever happened to him again. He’d failed.   
He picked the lock hurriedly, not wanting Cas to suffer any further because of his own stupidity and negligence. He pushed into the room then stopped, mouth hanging wide as he looked at the scene before him. There was a man, a bit shorter than Dean and a bit heavier, but still handsome despite his age. He wore a beautifully tailored black suit and there was a leather whip in his hand. Dean’s attention wasn’t on Mr. Crowley though.   
Cas was nude, hanging by his wrists from the ceiling, ropes tied around them and pulling so that his shoulders had been dislocated. He was swinging slowly, his head bent forward as he panted. Large red stripes crisscrossed his back, blood dripping down from some of them. There was a block of wood, round and smooth, like the head of a cane, shoved deep inside of the winged man’s anus and those silver wings were bleeding, the skin showing from where the feathers had been ripped out.   
“Cas.” He breathed.   
“So you must be Dean, then.” Mr. Crowley was English and he smiled at Dean as he entered, his hand around his own erection and pumping it slowly, “Did you want to join me? I have an extra whip around here somewhere.”  
Cas flinched as Dean touched him, his hand gentle and soft against his hot thigh. Cas wasn’t looking at him, wasn’t looking at anything. He was barely conscious.  
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he grimaced.  
“Me? Well, nothing, really. Your feathered friend needed to be taught a lesson, that’s all. I’m a paying customer, I want my goods to be here when I am.”  
Dean drew his gun. That was too much. All of this was too much but that, what he said, that pulled Dean out of his shocked immobility. He aimed his gun at Mr. Crowley, who didn’t seem too disturbed by it, just kept jerking himself.   
“I want you to leave him alone.” Dean growled, “Forever. I want to kill you for what you’ve done but I won’t. I’m not that person.”  
“You’re weak.”  
“No. I’m strong. If I was weak you’d be dead already. But if I see you again, if you ever touch Cas again, I will be weak.”  
“I’m so scared.” Mr. Crowley rolled his eyes, his hands finally in the air.  
“Don’t tempt me.”  
“Look around you, boy, this whole place is nothing but temptations. What’s yours? Angel boy, over there?”  
Dean was inching towards Cas, his gun constantly aimed straight at Mr. Crowley. “My only temptation is shooting you and the rest of these psychos in the face.”  
He bumped into the bleeding frame and Cas gasped out his name. “Yeah, Cas, I’m here. I’m going to take you home. You’re going to be okay, I promise.”  
“Dean.” He muttered again.   
“He speaks!” Mr. Crowley’s eye brows raised, “And here I thought he was trained better than that.”  
“Shut up.” Dean wrapped his arm around Cas’s waist, the gun in that hand. He would have to untie him with his left. He wasn’t accustomed to that and it took a long, too long, of a time for him to get Cas down. The winged man was limp in his arms, not quite able to stand. Still, his fingers clutched at him as he struggled to stay upright.   
Dean inched towards the door, half carrying half dragging Cas along with him.   
“This isn’t over, you know.” Mr. Crowley chuckled as they slipped out the door.   
Even though Mr. Crowley wasn’t following them, Dean kept his gun out. There were still the other freaks around, Uriel and Raphael, not to mention Mr. Zachariah. Cas was shivering though in his cooling blood and nakedness. Dean pulled off his overcoat and wrapped it around his friend’s shoulders, trying to give him some comfort before lifting him up and carrying him out of the freak show, down to the curb, and into a cab. He told the driver that Cas was sick and he didn’t ask any questions, just took them home quickly. Cas shivered and winced at each bump in the road, pressed up against Dean’s side. That hard wood was still inside of him, but Dean didn’t know what to do about that. He didn’t feel comfortable pulling it out of the winged man. Instead he made shushing sounds and ran his fingers through Cas’s hair, which seemed to soothe him.   
Cas was half asleep by the time they got back to the motel.  
Dean carried him into the motel room, ignoring the cab driver offering advice and his services. He paid him what he could, that was all. He didn’t know how to set Cas down, the damage on both his front and back quite drastic, so he laid him down on his side.   
Dean went to the bathroom to find some bandages and wet a wash clothe for Cas’s wounds, and when he returned, he found the winged man sobbing silently. Dean climbed onto the bed behind him and stroked his arm, ruffled his hair.   
“Hey, you’re okay, Cas, you’re going to be okay.” He whispered.  
“How?” Cas shivered, “This is what I deserve, what I was born for. You keep taking me away from there and all it’s doing is making it worse. You shouldn’t be nice to me, you shouldn’t help me. You should have just left me. Sam was stabbed because of me. Mr. Crowley’s going to come after you now.”  
“Shut up, Cas.” Dean stammered.   
Cas stared at him and made himself small, trying to sink into the bed until he was nothing. Dean rubbed a circle into his cheek.   
“You want to know what you deserve, what you were born for?” Dean studied him, all of the minuscule lines on his face from pain, sorrow, and worry, the chapped lips that needed more than words coming from them, the dark clouded eyes with the red rims. Cas was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He just couldn’t see that. “You deserve the best, you deserve someone who loves you and wants you to be safe. You deserve to be treated like a prince. You were born for the best things in the world. I wish you could see yourself. You’re beautiful and fragile and amazing, and I think you deserve nothing less than to be happy.”  
“Dean.”  
He hissed as Dean rubbed at his wounds with a damp washclothe, no warning as he started to clean the mulitple wounds. He must have known what Dean was doing though, even if he could hardly see, as he did not pull away. The damage was worse than Dean had expected. There were less cuts than he’d anticipated, the blood making it look like there were more open wounds and welts than there were, but there were scars all down Cas’s spine, overlapping one another and going so deep that Dean didn’t know which layer was which. It looked like those scars went on forever, all of the way down to his spine.   
Dean kissed one of the scars hesitantly, receiving a whine from Cas. He may have thought Dean was just touching, as he did not react to the fact that it was his lips that touched him, just that he had been touched.   
Dean bandaged him up as best as he could, trying to ignore the shivering pain radiating from the winged man’s body. The wings themselves were a mess, large chunks of feather ripped out and pale skin showing through. What feathers were left were tangled and messy.   
“Can I fix your wings?” he asked. He’d wanted to touch them so many times, but he hadn’t, he’d always tried to keep his distance.  
Cas nodded though and Dean reached into the mass of silver, a shudder of his own taking over his body at the feeling. They were warm almost too warm for comfort and the feathers were a bit oily, like he’d expect a crows to be, but they were smooth and silky all the same. He set to straighten the feathers out, to untie them from one another, to get them to cover the bloody bald spot as much as possible.   
When he was done there was only one thing left, the thing he hadn’t wanted to touch, the wooden tool shoved deep inside of his friend. His fingers rested on it and Cas’s body stopped shivering. He went still, all of his muscles contracting at once.   
“I have to remove this.” Dean explained, “I need you to relax, alright? If you’re all tight like this it’ll hurt more.”  
Cas tried to relax, tried to breathe through it, but he couldn’t and his muscles stayed as tight as before.   
“You must think I’m disgusting.” He clung to the blankets, “Letting Mr. Crowley do this to me.”  
“No.” Dean rubbed a circle into one of Cas’s wings with his thumb, “Nothing you could do would disgust me, Cas. I find what he did to you disgusting, but you had nothing to do with that. You need to let go, understand that you’re the victim here.”  
“Am I though? Really?”  
“Yes.” And Dean kissed his again, this time at the nape of his neck. Cas reacted a bit more to that, knowing exactly where Dean’s hands were. Still, he said nothing, and his muscles started to loosen. “Breathe with me?”  
He did and they both breathed long and deep breaths until their muscles were both as relaxed as possible. Only then to Dean pull on the wooden tool, Cas hissing once more as he did, and toss it to the side. A light stream of blood followed it and that wasn’t something that Dean could stop. Instead he ran his fingers through Cas’s hair and hummed an old Bing Crosby song until Cas finally fell asleep. 

Cas wasn’t very active for the next three days. He slept heavily and for long periods of time, in which Dean would watch him and touch him softly, making sure that he was alright. His cuts were scabbing up and his feathers were starting to grow back like stubble, and Dean inspected them carefully. He’d never seen feathers grow like that before.   
He didn’t visit Sam, he didn’t want Cas to be left alone again, didn’t want him to be taken away like last time. Instead he cooked for the winged man and told him stories and tried to wipe his self hatred away. Every time Cas mentioned what he thought he deserved or that Dean was doing too much for him, he would regail him on ways that he earned it.   
Dean couldn’t sleep at night, he felt cold and strange in his bed. He would open his eyes and see Cas across from him, snoring lightly. Lying behind him, stroking his hair and his wings, that’s where he knew he was supposed to be. His separate bed seemed too far away. He needed to be with Cas, as much as the notion felt wrong. He liked women, always had, but Cas was so new, so unusual, he couldn’t help but be drawn to him. And the feeling of his skin against Dean’s lips. That was something he wanted again. He wanted it forever.   
He tired to push those thoughts from his head, but they kept coming back when he tried to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pornographic chapter, yay!

Sam was going to be coming home from the hospital, they hadn’t seen or heard anything from the freak show or the police and Cas was finally able to put his clothing on. Things seemed to be winding down. Dean missed seeing the man’s flesh, oddly enough, even though it was scarred and damaged. He had never seen another nude man before, not even Sam, and he was interested. He wanted to know if Cas felt the same pleasures that he did, if he had the same sensitivities, and even if they worked the same way. It wasn’t a thought process that he’d had before.   
He’d met a man who was in love with a man, years ago. It was a strange concept, not one spoken of much, but the man explained how they copulated to Dean, who was curious, and Dean hadn’t thought of it since. He wondered now if he would enjoy it. He wondered while looking at Cas stretch his thin arms, his mutilated suit baggy on him regardless of Dean’s measurements, if he would like to copulate with a man. He knew Cas had done it, he must have, and Dean had done it plenty of times with women, but now that Cas was in his life he hadn’t thought of women once. He wanted to see Cas in pleasure.   
He crawled onto the bed while Cas sat upright, only in his undershirt and trousers, stretching his arms and wings. He was comfortable, lax; no longer jumping at Dean’s every move, no longer flinching at every loud noise. He was getting better.   
Dean was making him better.  
He set his fingers in those silver wings, straightening them as they flexed and shined. The bald spots were growing in, soft baby feathers, making way for the healthier feathers to grow through them. Dean wondered how they would feel against his lips. He found his face getting closer to Cas as he could feel the winged man’s breath on his shoulder. How easy it would be to kiss him like this. Cas didn’t know love though, he couldn’t have. All he knew was the twisted version of it that the freak show and Mr. Crowley forced on him. He wondered if Cas had felt pleasure at any point of his life. He wanted to see it, wanted to be the one who caused it.   
Cas’s fingers were on him, on his arms, pushing away.   
“Dean.” His voice was stronger now, less raw, but it was still rough and gravelly, “I need some space, okay?”  
Dean pulled back, “Yeah, okay.”  
He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t have sex with Cas. He would freak the guy out for starters. He didn’t really want it anyway, he didn’t like men. He liked women.   
And he liked Cas.  
“Your first morning with us,” he remembered, “you tried to give me oral.”  
Cas looked a bit ashamed at that, “I know. I apologized. Now I know.”  
“I was going to ask if that was still an offer, actually.”  
Cas’s eyelids were heavy and they drooped over his blue eyes, making it impossible to read them. His wings tightened around him though and his shoulders hunched and he looked tight and defensive all of a sudden, something Dean had never intended, “I see.”  
Dean reached out and stroked a finger along Cas’s jaw. He no longer had stubble there, but was growing a bit of a beard, “No, you don’t.”  
His other hand went down, skidded over Cas’s abdomen, then down into the waistband of his trousers. His penis was limp and uninterested, but the muscles in the rest of him tightened.  
“Dean. What are you doing?”  
“Oh God.” Dean breathed, his lips against Cas’s ear, “I want you, Cas. I’ve never wanted anyone like this before. I just, I need you inside of me.”  
Cas went stiff, even more so than before. He didn’t say anything and Dean couldn’t feel the breath against his shoulder, the eyelashes grazing his cheek, anymore. He let go and pulled away, seeing the terror in Cas’s eyes.   
“Why?” Cas’s voice was meek and tiny suddenly, “Why would you ever want something so horrible?”  
Dean looked him over, trying to understand what he was talking about. But of course! Dean was an idiot, he should have known this, should never have asked. Cas had never had good sex, with Mr. Crowley it had been all whips and blood and force. Cas didn’t know that there was a softer version of fornication. He must have thought that Dean wanted Cas to hurt him.   
“It’s not like what Mr. Crowely did, okay?” Cas winced when Dean reached out to him again, “What he did was cruel and wrong. That’s not what I’m offering you, alright? I can show you, if you like. The moment it hurts or you don’t like it, you can tell me. I’ll stop. I swear. You have my word.”  
Cas forced a pathetic little smile, “I thought you said you shouldn’t unless you loved the other person.”  
Dean lunged forward, wrapping his arms around the tense shoulders, “What if I loved you, Cas? Would that be alright?”  
Cas nodded against him, finally loosening up a bit, “Yes, that would be fine.”  
And Dean, all nervousness and shakes, slowly undressed the angel before him, who shielded his nudity as best he could with his arms, legs, and wings. It was an odd concept. He’d been nude in front of Dean for days, but now he was coy, as if now that sex was involved, his body was taboo. Dean pushed past the wings though, and moved past the legs so that he was sitting in Cas’s lap.  
“You don’t have to hide from me, Cas.” Dean kissed along his jaw. Even with a beard there, this felt right. Cas felt right. “I’ve seen you. I want to see more of you.”  
“Can I?” Cas’s head fell back, exposing his throat and Dean kissed along his adams apple, “Can I see you?”  
Dean smiled but stood, not leaving the bed, and pulled off his suit. He felt how Cas must be feeling, like he should be covering up, embarrassed by his body, but Cas’s eyes were wide with wonder, his pink lips parted as he took in Dean’s body.   
“What?” Dean forced a laugh.  
“You’re exquisite Dean.”  
And Dean blushed. It was rare when he blushed, only a few girls had made him do it in the past, and none of them had used the word exquisite. He was average, that was all. But Cas was so frail, so delicate, he must have looked very muscular to him, when he only had what muscle he had gained exercising in prison.   
That earned Cas a whole new set of kisses, some on his lips, some on his neck, some on his chest, and eventually, some on his thighs. It took a bit of work to get Cas to spread his legs, and he was whining when he did, fear in his face all over again. So Dean pushed up, kissed him tenderly until the crinkles in his face were smooth and his muscles relaxed once more. If anything, he wanted Cas to feel safe.   
He returned to his thighs, placing soft kisses to the sensitive skin, his fingers barely touching his penis. It wasn’t becoming erect and Dean wasn’t sure if it would, Cas being so afraid and all. But he tried anyway, sucking on the head with his mouth and licking at the body of it. Cas moaned a bit, but nothing else happened. Dean was still glad that he had paid attention when girls had given him oral. Gave him some idea of what to do.  
With his mind on what that man had told him years ago, Dean sucked on his fingers, spat on them, made them dripping wet, before he slowly and carefully pushed it into Cas’s body. Cas stiffened once more and Dean was sure that that would be the end of the experiment, that Cas wouldn’t allow this to go on any further. He looked to the winged man, trying to read his expressions, but was met with furious lips against his.   
“Keep going.” Cas asked and Dean pushed his finger in further. Cas looked like he was in pain, his teeth gritted as Dean worked his finger in and out of him, trying to build a rhythm. After a few strokes the muscles around his finger loosened, as did those in the rest of Cas’s body. He tipped his head back and out came a raspy, angelic, moan. It wasn’t like anything Dean had ever heard a woman make before.   
“You like that?” he asked, getting exactly what he had been looking for. Cas’s penis was finally filling up, finally growing red and erect at the pleasure he was feeling.  
“More!” was all Cas could moan in response.  
Dean gave him more, pushing another finger in and working it. He was surprised. He’d never expected for it to be this wet, this hot, this feminine. He’d expected his fingers to meet with fecal matter, not this clear hot liquid. And he wasn’t expecting Cas to react like this, moaning around each touch. He pushed his fingers forward, searching, and when Cas almost screamed he knew he had hit the right spot. He kept stroking it, watching as Cas’s erection grew and a bead of clear fluid accumulated at the top.   
Dean pushed in a third finger and man, the faces Cas was making. Open and relaxed, his mouth slack, his cheeks flushed, his wings spread behind him. Dean had never seen anything like this.   
“You’re so beautiful.” He found himself saying, kissing every inch of Cas that he could reach. Cas just hummed and moaned in response, the noises of pleasure turning into whines when Dean pulled his fingers out of him.   
Cas rose up, nuzzled against him, running the bridge of his nose down Dean’s jaw and cheek and shoulder. “Do you want this?” Dean breathed, rubbing his own erection. Cas looked achingly hard, that liquid dripping from the head of his penis in thick strands. Cas was fragile. Dean had to let him be in on every move that he made.  
“Yes Dean.” Cas sucked on his flesh, making goose pimples rise on his chest. “No. I don’t know. I want it, want you. It’s just…”  
And Dean’s shoulder was wet, Cas’s tears dripping onto it. He was so very vulnerable.   
He took Cas’s chin in his hand and tipped him so that they were once more looking at one another. Dean kissed every tear as it fell, the salt coating his plump lips.  
“I know, Cas. You’re scared. It’s okay. I love you, Cas. I’m not going to hurt you.”  
“I know, Dean.” Cas’s lips were hungry as they kissed his own, licking back up the tears he had shed, “I’m not afraid of you. I love you too. I’m afraid of this. Of it reminding me.”  
“You only have bad memories. Let me… Let me make some goods ones?” Dean kissed him again.  
Cas nodded and gripped his shoulders tight.   
Dean spat into his hand and rubbed it on his erection, trying to lubricate it before slipping it into Cas’s cavity. Cas made a face as he did, like he was biting lemons, his eyes turning into a mess of lines, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. Dean pushed past the tight ring of muscle and into Cas properly, breathing once he was through. It was soft and warm there. Dean felt safe. That wasn’t the point though.  
“Does it hurt Cas?” he asked, not moving.  
Cas breathed again, his the lines fading as his face relaxed. Those brilliant blue eyes opened and he stared into Dean, looking so deep into him that Dean had to pull away. “It feels…” he thought, “It feels good. Are you going to…”  
“Yeah, I just had to make sure you were okay.” Dean rolled his hips, the same way he had done with countless women and Cas shouted out, his fingernails digging into Dean’s shoulders. Cas didn’t close his eyes though, he kept them directed at Dean. He was keeping himself planted, making sure that he didn’t drift off and see Mr. Crowley in Dean’s place. Dean rolled his hips again and the shout was more of a moan.   
Dean lifted Cas up, not leaving him, and shifted so that he was kneeling with Cas in his lap, his hands on his hips. He kept his hips steady as he thrust up and into the winged man, who’s sounds were closer to that of pleasure with each moment that Dean was inside of him.  
“You’re okay, Cas.” Dean kissed him, “You’re going to be okay.”  
One of his hands left the bony hip and took hold of Cas’s throbbing erection. He moaned loudly at that touch alone, Dean not even applying any pressure or stroking yet. Had no one ever touched him there? Had that been yet another pleasure denied Castiel?  
His wings were lazy, open halfway, swaying and twitching with the trusts and now, the slow but tight pumps Dean was performing on Cas’s erection. It only took a few pumps for Cas’s moan to become a deep groan, for his muscles to tighten once more, for his semen to splash onto Dean’s bare chest. Dean kept thrusting, kept holding onto his penis throughout his orgasm, and with those muscles clenching him, he came into his angel.  
“Never again, please Dean?” Cas was whining, his lips against Dean’s neck, his temple, his hair, “Don’t let them take me, ever again.”  
“I won’t Cas.” Dean promised, not leaving even though the ejaculate on his chest was growing cold, “I’d rather die than let them hurt you again. I love you.”  
Their lips crashed back together and any reservation was gone from either of their sides. Dean’s tongue pushed into Cas’s mouth and Cas moaned at it, his teeth digging into Dean’s lip, making it swell.   
When Cas started to cry again, he was laughing, and pushing Dean away playfully as he tried to kiss the tears away. Dean had never seen him so happy.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean didn’t want to leave Cas alone, but he had to pick Sam up from the hospital. Detective Inspector Robert Singer didn’t want to help them, he wanted Dean to send Cas back to Mr. Zachariah, but that was before he saw him, hiding behind Dean like he was the only safe thing in the world. Dean told him everything, about the scars, everything except for the love that they had shared. Bobby smiled and promised to look after the place while Dean was gone. 

It didn’t make Cas any more comfortable though and he tried to read while Bobby was in the room, playing cards. He couldn’t, he kept watching Bobby as if he were some kind of threat, not getting anywhere in Sam’s books. 

He almost felt relieved when there was a knock on the door, as Bobby walked to it. He hid into himself, not knowing who it was, but he recognized the voice. Bobby was telling her off, not letting her in, but she sounded desperate. 

Cas snuck up behind Bobby, too quiet for comfort and peered over the man’s shoulder.

“Anna?” he asked.

Her eyes widened as she saw him and she smiled, “Castiel! Wow, look at you. You look so good.”

Cas shifted uncomfortably. “Thanks. I feel good. Why are you here?”

“I have to talk to you.” She said before glaring up at Bobby, “Alone.”

Cas looked up at him, his eyes wide and innocent, “It’s okay. I trust her.”

Bobby didn’t like it, but he left the hotel room, standing just outside of the door as Anna and all of her flaming red hair, curled into buns and braids, entered. As soon as the door was closed her friendly expression fell, replaced with a desperate panic.

“What do you think you’re doing? Do you have any idea what it’s been like since you left?” she exclaimed.

Cas backed away, small and curling in on himself, his wings protective around him, he just wanted to vanish, get away from her fury. 

“It’s been Hell, Castiel. Hell! We thought it was bad before, but it is so much worse now and Mr. Zachariah’s not done. He sent me here. He wanted me to tell you that he got your friends, the Winchesters? He intercepted them at the hospital!”

“What?” And Cas’s voice was a throaty growl, his anger filling him up and making him large, making Anna back down for once. 

“He and Mr. Crowley. They caught them and they’re holding them. Zachariah said that he would let them go if you came back.”

“Where are they?” 

Anna was too frightened to hide anything from him, not that she wanted to anyway. If she didn’t do what Mr. Zachariah had said she would be put back on the streets. “Warehouse B down by the docks. It’s only a few blocks from here. But Castiel, you shouldn’t go. You should forget them, leave them to their fate, just run!”

“I can’t do that, Anna.” He started to rifle through Dean’s bag, only stopping once he found Dean’s revolver from the war. He slipped it into the waistbend of his slacks. “I won’t let them come to any harm.”

“You’ve changed.” she sounded distant, “You speak now and you’re so much stronger. I’m glad that they found you, even if it’s been harder for us. I think you should leave them and get on with your life but, you seem really protective of them. Uriel and Raphael are with them and they’re both armed. Be careful.”

Cas nodded and rushed into the bathroom. He couldn’t leave through the front, couldn’t tell Bobby where he was going. Bobby would never let him go. He would get all of the police involved. Cas needed to take care of this on his own. 

He climbed out the window and raced down the road, sticking to side streets and trying not to be seen. He kept his wings tight against him, but still he was seen by a few people. It didn’t matter, not really. He had to save Sam and Dean and his new life. 

The warehouse was clean and it only had a few windows. Cas peered through them, trying to see inside. He could see Dean and Sam, both tied to chairs. Dean’s head was low hung and even from the distance Cas could tell that his face was swollen and bloody. 

He had to get them out of there. 

Mr. Crowley was there too, pacing, his hands behind his back and a horrible smile on his face. Cas felt nauseous just looking at him, the need to run and hide almost as strong as that to save the Winchesters. Almost. At his side was Zachariah, saying something, but Cas couldn’t read his lips. 

He didn’t see the other two. 

He found Uriel as he snuck towards the door. He was on guard duty, as was Raphael, presumably. He had a Thompson in his hands and looked on high alert. Cas snuck up to him as stealthily as he could with the two large masses on his back, Dean’s gun drawn and in his hand. When he was sure Uriel wouldn’t see him, he rushed him, cracking his head with the butt of the pistol. He hit as hard as he could and Uriel dropped to the ground, blood leaking from his skull. 

That was better, one less to worry about. 

He breathed, standing beside the door. He should be in there, but he had to calm down first. Had to breathe.

He pushed the door open and the two men inside turned to see him enter, the gun before him, aimed straight at Crowley. 

“You wanted me?” he growled, “Well, here I am. Now let them go.”

“Let them go?” Zachariah grinned, pulling out his own pistol, “You mean so that they can kidnap you all over again? I don’t think so Cas. These friends of yours need to be dealt with. And you. You need to learn a lesson.” Then he pressed the barrel of the gun against Dean’s temple. 

But he couldn’t shoot. Cas had reaimed and fires first. He was a crummy shot, never having held a gun before, but the bullet tore through Mr. Zachariah’s shoulder all the same,   
knocking his arm away from Dean, making him howl in pain as he dropped his gun. Cas turned his attention back to Mr. Crowley.

“I think you’ll see I’m not fucking around.” Cas growled.

Mr. Crowley just raised an eyebrow, “You’ve gotten pretty cocky. Looking at you though, it seems to just be bravado. You can’t shoot me, you’re trembling like a leaf. You’re absolutely terrified. And now? Now, you’re dead.”

Bullets tore through Cas and he screamed at the pain of it, his screams mixing with Dean’s and even Sam’s as the air became clouded with blood and feathers. When the bullets stopped he fell to the ground, his sticky wet fingers before him, trying to catch his fall. 

“You idiot!” Mr. Zachariah shouted at Raphael, his fury dripping from his lips like toxins, “What did you do that for? I spent all this time trying to get him back and you shoot him full of holes? He’s worthless to me now!”

There were sirens in the distance and they were growing louder, coming closer. Anna must have told Bobby after all. 

“Cas? Oh God, please… Please get up, Cas.” Dean was begging through his tears. “Please, I need you. Please.”

Cas pulled himself up, his wings a tattered mess of blood and ruined flesh behind him. They had caught the bullets, almost all of them, and there was hardly anything left of them. 

Still, he was pale from blood loss and pain, but he smiled as his bright blue eyes met Dean’s. 

“You’re okay, Dean.” He murmured, “You’re going to be okay.”

Mr. Zachariah kicked him down though, earning another scream of desperation from Dean, his foot connecting with his jaw and knocking him back into the pool of blood. He was holding his gun in his bloody, shaking hand, his other applying pressure to the wound he’d been dealt. He aimed the gun at Cas now. 

“You’re not worth a penny now.” He snarled. “You’re lower than anything, lower than your poor mom, lower than your thieving friends, lower than a pathetic dog.”

It was odd for Mr. Zachariah to bring up his mother, he hadn’t thought about her in so long. He’d been too young to remember, but he’d been told that she didn’t want a freak child and she had sold him to Mr. Zachariah. Thinking back on it, he doubted anything he’d been told to be true. 

The sirens were close. He just needed a little bit more time. 

“My mother?” Cas groaned, “Odd to bring her up, sir. How much of your story is true?”

Mr. Zachariah knelt beside him, his face inches away from the once winged man’s, “You’re mother? She was pathetic. She was useless. With her crying and her wailing and her ‘don’t take my baby!’ Pathetic. We beat her down good though, took you in, made something out of you. With her? You would have been hidden away forever.”

That wasn’t what he had expected. He had expected the original story to be a bit more true. Somehow, this was even worse. 

The sirens were just outside. Just a few more seconds.

“Don’t!” Dean pleaded, “Please don’t kill him.”

Please. They had to get there. They had to be there in time.

“I’m going to kill him.” Mr. Zachariah stated, “And then I’m going to kill you. And then I’m going to kill your baby brother.”

There were shouts out there, the police slamming their doors shut.

Mr. Zachariah aimed once more for Cas.

The door slammed open and the place was crawling with officers, led by Detective Inspector Robert Singer himself. There were gunshots and people yelling, but Cas couldn’t discern it really. He was cold, shivering, and he was done. He had saved his friends. He was out.

He was never going back. 

Everything went black as two arms pulled him in tight.


	7. Epilogue

Mr. Crowley had run off into the night, escaped somehow. He had the entirety of the police force after him though, he wouldn’t get far. Raphael and Mr. Zachariah had been arrested, they wouldn’t be doing any more damage to anyone.   
The freak show had collapsed, everyone inside of it being turned out onto the streets. They mostly went their separate ways, but Anna, Inias, and his partner, Hastor, moved in together, doing what they could to keep themselves sheltered.   
The Winchester’s had been found innocent of any crimes, Bobby having pulled more strings than he possibly should have. He did tell them that they should never see this side of New York again though. That sounded fair.   
They packed up, called a cab, and they were off, only stopping at Bobby’s shortly before they left town for good.   
They hadn’t been able to take Cas to a hospital, they wouldn’t have known what to do with him, anyway, so they had taken him here. They had done what they could, pulling out bullets and cutting away parts that weren't salvageable. They had police and army nurses taking care of him. He hadn’t been left alone for a moment.   
When the cab pulled up to the curb, Bobby was already standing outside of his house, the once winged man bundled up in blankets in his arms. Dean felt a warm wave of relief as he saw Cas, as Bobby set him almost in Dean’s lap in the taxi. Cas clung to Dean, burying his face in his neck, keeping himself as upright as he could. Dean wrapped an arm around him, holding him against him as tightly as he could manage, waving his thanks to Bobby.  
His fingers touched the horrible knobs of flesh at Cas’s back, the only sign that there had ever been wings there. They were gone, the silky silver feathers, the protective shield, the things that had caused so much damage. He started to cry, softly and silently, and Cas pressed himself tighter into the hollow of his neck, a hand on his heart.  
Sam said nothing, but smiled to himself.   
A month later, Cas was doing much better. Dean was out on a job and Sam was talking on the phone. Bobby had called, seemed he had some information for them, not on a job but something much more personal.   
“Hey, Cas.” Sam sat next to him once he was done with the call.   
“What was that?” Cas asked. If it was personal he didn’t want to pry.  
“Bobby’s pulled some strings, did a bunch of research. I don’t know how, since the kidnapping of a winged child was never reported, but he found your mother.”  
Cas’s eye were huge. He had never even thought that his mother could be found, that there was a possibility that he could ever see her again.   
“Can I-“ he couldn’t even choke out the words.  
“Tomorrow. We can get a cab, head over. You can see your mother again.”  
Cas was beaming, all teeth and pink gums. His arms wrapped around Sam, knocking him back as he hugged him, tight and strong. He was starting to build some muscle.   
“Thank you.” He chanted into Sam’s chest, “Thank you so much.”

They were quiet in the car, Dean looking out the window. He seemed almost hurt by this, by Cas getting to see his mother. Cas was too excited to notice though, finally, a chance to find out the truth. But what if she really hadn’t wanted him? What if she didn’t want him now? What if she didn’t even know who he was? He curled in on himself as his anxieties took him over.   
Blindly, he reached out, his fingers intertwining with Dean’s. He found comfort there, in the warmth and calloused skin. Dean looked at him, pulling himself out of his own misery at losing Cas to realize how nervous he was. He stopped the intertwining of their fingers, placed his arm around Cas’s shoulders and pulling him close to his side.   
He could feel Cas breathing against him, the heart racing through his thin frame. He wanted to kiss him, but he didn’t. Sam was there. He wouldn’t be able to explain it.   
They stopped in front of a small cottage. It looked like it was falling apart, ivy holding it up as it climbed through the wood. Sam was the first one out of the cab, but he didn’t leave it, he just rested his arms on the roof and watched the cottage.   
There was a small wooden cross underneath a tree, pushed into the ground. Some form of grave stone. There were silver feathers hanging from the horizontal bar.   
Cas was out of the car next, pulling at his suit. It was new and not ruined to accommodate his wings. It fit pretty well, although it was a bit baggy in the back, the amputated nub confusing the tailor into making more space back there. He looked good, healthy, and more beautiful than anything Dean had ever seen.   
He was shaking as he started to walk towards the cottage. He got about half way to the door before his panic overtook him. Then he spun around, was running back to the cab on uncertain legs. He didn’t climb inside though, he just ran into Dean’s arms, his hands hard against him, rumpling his own suit as he clutched the lapels, dragged Dean towards him and kissing him hard, possessively, on the lips.   
Sam was grinning.  
“Come with me?” Cas begged, his eyes huge and deep.  
Dean swallowed. He couldn’t speak. He and Cas hadn’t done anything romantic since that night, when Dean had proven to him that sex wasn’t a bad thing. Now he’d been kissed so wonderfully and he wanted to do nothing else.  
He nodded.   
Cas smiled and grabbed his arm in his own, leading him to the door of the cabin. He was much less nervous with Dean at his side and his knock almost sounded like he had no anxiety at all.   
‘Okay.’ Sam thought to himself as the door opened and he saw a quick exchange of words before a woman came out, wrapping her arms around Cas and sobbing against him, ‘they’re going to be okay.’


End file.
